


Nogitsune Eating Habits

by Monyas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Food is Not People, Gen, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sassy Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monyas/pseuds/Monyas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pain is pizza, strife is bacon and chaos is a bunch of heavenly delicious curly fries.</p><p>To say that a nogitsune’s diet consists on pain, strife and chaos was like saying that a human’s diet consists only on meat, plants and water.</p><p>Oversimplification.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nogitsune Eating Habits

Stiles thinks that his mom could never have condoned a diet based solely on fast food. He imagines that she’d have told him that it wasn’t healthy for a still growing teenager and that he should eat his vegetables once in a while and so on and so forth. But then again, it was his mom’s fault in the first place for leaving him alone at home with a pile of extra cheese pizza, carefully arranged to last him a decade or two, and with a cheeky post-it on how he should better ration each serving unless he wanted to turn to ashes. And don’t get him wrong. Pizza is _awesome_. And Stiles was totally okay with eating pizza all year long as long as it was good pizza. But seriously? He was kind of getting tired of eating nothing but cheese again and again and again. Sometimes he craved toppings, meat and veggies and pepperoni and mushrooms and even pineapple. Endless possibilities and, oh god, the _sauces_. Never forget the sauces.

Goddammit.

And worse than extra cheese pizza was leftover extra cheese pizza. The kind that lingers in the box and becomes a slice of moss and acrid cheese and kind of festers and mutates and well, it’s definitely not Stiles’ idea of breakfast.

“Son, are you listening to me?” Yeah, and that was a box of moldy pizza right there, presented to Stiles in the form of a brooding sheriff with grieving eyes and sighs everywhere. “I’ll pick you up after school. We’ll get some nice flowers for your mom on the way and, well, yeah.”

An awkward slice of pizza indeed.

Sometimes Stiles thinks he might hate his mom a little bit for marrying a guy who didn’t know how to cook. More often than not, he just felt sorry for his dad. It wasn’t his dad’s fault, really, it was just that his mom was a sly lying vixen of doom, destruction and horror. Quite literally so.

Stiles loves his mom alright. He just didn’t like his mom’s cheesy pizzas anymore.

“Sure, dad.”

The ride to the cemetery was very mozzarella.

Sometimes emotional pain was a parmesan in the ass.

 

***

 

The first time Stiles tasted bacon it was as a pizza topping and it was burnt.

Burnt to the ground.

Stiles watched from the sheriff’s car as his dad ran up to the Hale House and tried unsuccessfully to open the jarred doors. He watched as his dad and the other deputies and firefighters eventually stilled and the world was engulfed by pretty flames and charred wood. He kept watching as the Hale siblings arrived to the remains of their house and howled, actually _howled,_ in misery and loss, tears striking their ashen faces and death dancing behind strange colored eyes.

Stiles watched it all, remembered his mom and her penchant for carefully prepared homemade meals, and thought: _Better be careful not to let the bacon overcook. It’s crispy, it’s delicious, but it’s not pretty_.

He later left feeling full and satiated and a little bit sheepish for not paying for the nice meal. It was like an eat-and-run. Stiles then decided to avoid burnt bacon, he still thought the topping itself was nice for variety. But maybe next time he’ll like to make his own, crispy and crunchy and guilt-free. And hey! Since karma made for such a nice frying pan, maybe he should consider consulting the Argents for a few tragedy-based cooking recipes. Why the Argents? Well, they smelled like bacon whenever they visited. The Hale House and the Argent’s residence became his favorite places to walk by when he was feeling particularly peckish.

It didn’t last long though.

Most people tended to intuitively feel when the resident fox is full and no one really wanted to stay and watch it play with the leftovers.

Stiles personally didn’t like playing with his food much. Mom taught him better.

 

***

 

Stiles was being dragged home by a not so amused sheriff when he caught the scent of freshly made spicy peperoni pizza behind him, which was understandably strange since he was currently in the middle of the forest and the police was searching for a corpse and not a living, possibly injured, person.

Then he remembered Scott and became curious, because his friend was on the habit of spurting mushrooms on the occasional asthma attack but never actually anything meat related. Sickness was more similar to fungus after all.

Stiles was almost on his way back to his best friend, after distracting his dad with the classic hey-what’s-that when he stumbled upon a curly fry. A freaking _curly fry_. Just one, there, falling from nowhere like a particularly jumpy spring and curling just so at the ends like the innocent potato snack that it was.

Stiles had to stare because. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Which doesn’t mean that he didn’t happily devour it because, FYI, curly fries are delicious, thank you very much.

He was so distracted by the heavenly flavor that he completely forgot about pepperoni pizza until the next day. And that was only because _werewolves, dude_.

Yeah.

This is his life.

 

***

 

Werewolves and their shenanigans made Stiles’ diet go to hell.

How did people expect him to lead a healthy lifestyle when Beacon Hills slowly but surely transformed into an all-you-can-eat buffet right in front of his eyes? It wasn’t _fair_.

But then again Stiles was only one man against an onslaught of all kinds of pizza and mountains of bacon and curly fries raining from the sky at random moments throughout the day.

First Allison and Scott and their finely seasoned bacon strips, full of love spats and supernatural Romeo and Juliet angst. It was a pity that their flavor couldn’t last longer and sooner or later always went back to heartbroken and sulky veggies. They were not the only ones either but that was because teenager protagonist wannabes in general tended to be ninety-nine per cent drama and, mixed together with puberty, could inflate and inflate until it all became so humongous that there were more toppings than actual pizza, like _deep dish_. Stiles secretly loved Lydia’s denial olives above all others.

Then there was Kate Argent with her unusual brand of psycho-fries and Peter Hale’s sweet potato revenge-madness. Both usually quickly followed by lots of crazy dips.

And there was also Derek Hale and his almost infinite variety of manpain feelings to choose from: guilty anchovies, and melancholy parmesan, betrayal corn and, Stiles’ personal favorite, wolfsbane pineapple. More often than not the combinations made for quite an unique dish and came accompanied with a side of curly fries. Because why not.

Stiles started to glimpse potential ingredients for nice homemade meals _everywhere_. He could sometimes smell the scent of a nice steak in the air that could only mean a violent death, and he could swear that the Hale House had the lingering taste of torture lasagna at one point or another coming from underneath. But well, he never felt the need to prepare his own meal. Not with all that food in front of him on a more than a regular basis.

He was so going to get fat.

 

***

 

The thing is, werewolves are not the only territorial supernatural creatures lurking around. Nogitsune were well known to be very voracious food hoarders. Which is why when one day Stiles found himself facing an old decrepit fox from downtown Nemeton using _his_ ingredients in _his_ kitchen and blatantly stealing food from _his_ plate, well, he was not amused.

“ _Dude._ ”

And yeah, because Stiles was Stiles, he had to intervene in the middle of a fight to the death between werewolves, and the occasional banshee, and hunters, and ninetails, and well, everyone really. And _ninjas_ , don’t forget the ninjas. And there was delicious bacon frying on the battlefield, sure, but it wasn’t for Stiles and it was _pissing him off_.

“Not the time, Stiles!” Derek the sourwolf was very sour, which was understandable since he was being impaled to the wall by an excessively long katana (overcompensating much, ninja number two?), who was twisting the sword around to make hamburgers apparently.

“Did you just call the thousand year old nogitsune ‘dude’, dude?” Scott was blinking at Stiles from the other side of the clearing, currently wrestling with fly-possessed twin alphas-turned-omegas.

Stiles ignored both with a huff, too annoyed at being extremely hungry despite the abundance of snacks dangling in front of him to care for the opinions of said food.

This was between voids.

“ _You_.” He pointed at the smug fox sitting like a freaking mafia boss in the middle of a mountain of curly fries. The other void had the gall to raise an eyebrow at him which, yeah, his species were so trickster-like that they couldn’t normally recognize each other if they passed each other on the street but this was ridiculous. “Yeah you with the ugly pointy black teeth and the fashion sense of a blind mummy. You!”

He mentally thanked the fact that the pack was too busy gaping at him to shut him up. At least that got the old fox’s attention judging by the couple more katanas pointed at him.

“Careful, kid.”

And that was hilarious because Stiles was neither a kid nor ‘careful’ but, taking into account the various wolfy growls around, it seemed the pack took the threat a bit more seriously.

“Whatever, dude, but this is _rude_ and that’s just not cool. Like seriously so not cool.” Stiles crossed his arms and glared at wherever the other’s eyes were supposed to be, trying to make a point. “I don’t want to start a food fight,” He was vaguely aware of the incredulous looks thrown his way. “But if you make one more hamburger with pizza ingredients, I am seriously going to have words with whoever taught you how to cook.”

And now the pack was looking at him as if he was _Peter_. And Peter was looking at him like he was _Deaton_ , which was just as well. “What the hell are you babbling about, Stilinski?”

“Huh.” At least the other fox understood, seeing that he was showing signs of realization and embarrassment through the bandages. However that worked. “The curly fries are awesome, though?”

Oh. _Oh._ This was _personal._

Even Derek had stopped struggling and was instead half-hanging by the katana like a ragdoll of pure surprise.

“Seriously?” Stiles was not moved by the compliment. “The curly fries are a state of art and you know it, yeah, but that doesn’t excuse your horrendous etiquette. We have table manners for a reason.”

Great. He sounded like his mom. That’s how indignant he was.

“Huh.”

Not so assertive among the same species, was he? They have a _code_ after all. It was mostly a recipe book with pretty images of dessert in HD and a collection of puns on how to become a vegetarian carefully typed in comic sans but a code was a code nonetheless.

“I could, uh, I could pay you back?” The old fox sounded tentatively remorseful and everything. “How about going out for drinks?” He added with interest in his tone and a flashy sharp smile.

“What the- Is the nogitsune _asking Stiles out_?” Stiles steadily ignored Scott, too occupied with grimacing in disgust.

“Ugh. No thanks, I have no intention of eating you, and no offense but I am still too young for anything alcoholic.” Stiles had been told that cannibalism was an acquitted taste reserved for voids who were over a thousand and bored to dead (sometimes quite literary) but as far as Stiles was concerned nogitsune shots were just foul creations of adults that made no sense whatsoever. Apparently it was also highly addictive and mass-murdering inducing (which wasn’t bad per se, just hella wasteful).

“Oh.” The other fox paused as if making mental calculations before settling with face-palming in mortification. “ _Fuck_.”

Because yeah, all thing considered this was basically a drunk adult trespassing into an underage kid’s house through the window, stealing said kid’s ‘happy meal’ from under his nose and then offering to pay back with tequila shots.

The ninjas disappeared abruptly and an awkwardly confused silence fell as the others tried to keep up with what they probably thought was some sort of coded conversation.

Stiles sighed, because he was still hungry and snack-less.

“My mom is so going to _eviscerate_ you when she resurrects, you have no idea.”

The void flinched.

 

***

 

To say that a nogitsune’s diet consists on pain, strife and chaos was like saying that a human’s diet consists only on meat, plants and water. Oversimplification. The supernatural chefs around the globe would be appalled by any description of their eating habits that the hunters came up with. It was as if they didn’t know that Caribbean vampires liked reptile blood ice-cream or that Korean succubus loved to spice every meal with kinky bondage sex.

Everybody knew that!

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment below with your favorite (supernatural) food pun :D


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